


The Pocky Game

by DeanBean



Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-20
Updated: 2012-03-20
Packaged: 2017-11-02 06:23:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/365909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeanBean/pseuds/DeanBean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I saw a video of cosplayers doing this... Well... They played the Pocky Game. So I wrote the story! :D</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Pocky Game

“Here” Dave throws a red box at you before plopping down on his ironically polka-dotted, rainbow bean-bag chair. You pause the videogame you were in the middle of to examine the sudden gift. 

“Pocky?” you ask, cocking an eyebrow at your best friend. The last time he’d given you a present was when you were both thirteen. He’d sent you that bad ass bunny that had saved your tail multiple times… but all the shit that went down between those life-savings kind of ceased the gift giving. 

“Yeah. You dig that kind of Japanese, Otaku, desu desu shit, right?” he asks, sweeping back his overgrown, white blond hair in the coolest way possible. When Dave did anything, that action pretty much became twice as cool as it was when done by any other person. 

You were never as cool as he was.

Glasses, buck teeth, un-ironic love for crappy old movies, highest score on any video game you’ve ever played… But Dave always dealt with your insane level of nerdiness. And he still dealt with it, even after a full year of living with each other in the same cramped apartment. 

You chose to go to that one art school in Houston because that was where Dave lived. His bro had left him the apartment they’d shared, completely paid off forever. He had lived by himself since the session ended and when you first moved in, the place was a total mess. There were all kinds of mold growing on all kinds of pizza boxes and every surface was covered in dust and grime. It had taken a week of hardcore, mad-as-shit scrubbing before you felt comfortable eating in the filthy place. Now it was your job to do the chores because otherwise the place would be trashed daily. 

The two of you had been best cyber-friends since you were twelve. With each chat log, you grew closer and closer. It took more than six years for the two of you to finally meet face to face, outside of video gaming

“Yeah. But why did you get me these?” you ask.

“Figured you’d like it.” He shrugs. “I was at the store for smokes and I saw them so I picked them up.” 

You scowl. “I hate it when you smoke.” Now that you think about it, there is a faint cigarette stench wafting from his direction. You scrunch up your nose in disgust and he shakes his head.

“Maybe that’s why I got it for you, John.” His eyes were covered with his cool shades, but you swear you can almost _hear_ them rolling at your worry about his health. 

“So you got me shitty, Japanese candy to make up for setting yourself up for death by lung cancer?” you sigh, scratching at the back of your head. He’d been smoking since he was sixteen, using Bro’s left behind ID to buy the cancer sticks. You’d always protested, just like you did when your Dad had smoked his smelly pipe. When you moved in, all the ashtrays left and you windexed the shit out of the windows and walls to get the nasty, yellow nicotine layer off them. But he still crept outside to suck up that unhealthy smoke. And he always ignored you when you yelled at him to stop. 

“Yup.” Simple answer. That meant ‘shut the hell up or I’m going to get pissed’. 

You’re the only person on the planet that can push past his cool, emotionless expression to get to the feelings brewing underneath. Sometimes he talked, but when he got too upset he’d storm away to his room and slam the door behind him. If he left it unlocked, he still wanted to talk but he was way too cool to be that obvious about it. You always tested the door and when the knob turned at your touch you’d go in and he’d tell you what was wrong… But if the door was locked tight, he wanted nothing more than to be alone. 

“Alright then.” You give in, opening the red box and tearing the silver bag that held the candy inside. You select a stick of chocolately goodness at random and stick it in your mouth, crunching thoughtfully. Theme music had started playing from the pause menu of the game you were playing. It was all in the name of research and there was going to be some sort of quiz tomorrow over character development and plot depth or something. 

Dave had dropped out a long time ago. He said he didn’t need some stupid teacher authority to tell him how to make his beats even more sicknasty. The money he made as a DJ was decent enough to pay his bills, buy his cool clothes, feed the both of you and fuel his nasty habits. 

“You know there’s a Pocky game.” You say, finishing the piece of candy you were working on and fishing out another to munch on. 

“You would know, wouldn’t you man? You’re like the overlord of planet geek. Mayor of nerdtopia.” He spouts. 

“Wanna know how to play?” you ask, ignoring his superior insults. 

“No. I really don’t. But you’re going to tell me anyway. And then I’m going to play the game and win that motherfucker and turn your loser-ass game into something ironically cool.” 

You grin. There’s no way he’ll ever be able to win. You refuse to let him. 

Karkat would call your feelings flushed, or red or something. Then he’d go on about quadrants and proper use of cleaning supplies… You’ll never understand Troll romance. But you are sure of one thing. 

Whatever color, whatever quadrant, you’re in love with Dave. You have been since the day you properly laid your eyes on him. Near white hair on top of near white skin and a plush mouth that was always in a cool position. His body was lean and the thin T-shirts he favored hugged his lean muscles, carved out by hours of lonely samurai practice with Bro’s old swords. There’s an essence that follows him around that’s like electricity and fire. You never know when the flame will spark up, but when it does, and his hard shell breaks, the person that breaks through is just as beautiful as the person on the outside. 

Living so close to him was hard. So hard. You could always looks, but you’d never had the balls to try to touch. You’d told him before that you weren’t gay. You told everyone that… Of course, no one had asked in the last few years and the last time you said you weren’t a homosexual you had been thirteen, stressed, scared and a whole lot of confused. 

But times had changed and so had your feelings… and you had the sudden urge to say “fuck all” and go for it. Like that one time you had the urge to do the windy thing, you did, and everything turned out to be okay. Damn, you missed having the power. It had vanished after the session had ended. But Dave hadn’t vanished. He was sitting right here, looking up at you with an expectant raised eyebrow. And you know that no matter what you do, he’ll never leave. 

“You can’t laugh at me.” You blush, despite your sudden confidence. 

“Swear on my right nut that I won’t guffaw at your stupid game.” He waved a hand through the air. You swallow, dropping from your perch in the specified gaming chair to the floor in front of him. 

“Okay, well,” you select a stick of candy and wave it in front of your face. “We each sort of, put an end in our mouths then take turns biting. The first one to pull away loses.” You explain, stumbling over your words. 

“Are you serious right now, Egbert?” he almost laughs. You feel the blood rushing to your cheeks, but you nod anyway, pushing your glasses back into place. 

“Dead serious, man.” 

“This is some Lady and the Tramp shit,” He scoffs. “We’re not two dogs in Italy, dude. No spaghetti.” 

You swallow, afraid he’ll back down for just a split second, before opening your mouth to deliver your killing blow. “Look, do you want to play or not? It’s cool if you’re too chicken, or whatever. Insecure with your manhood or something… I understand.” That’s it. You got him. The challenge is accepted. 

“Fuck you, let’s get this over with you windy fuckass.” His coolness wavers for a fraction of a second and that makes you smirk evilly. In your mind, you’ve already won the entire thing. You broke down his wall, or at least put a tiny chip in it. Bravely, you take another stick and place the end not covered in chocolate in your mouth, holding it with your teeth. He moves closer hesitantly, giving you time to change your mind. Like he did when you suggested him giving you a hit of his bong or a shot of his whiskey. But this was your decision and if you gave in you’d never forgive yourself. When he sees that you aren’t moving he shrugs. “We gonna do a countdown or something?” he runs the tip of his pink tongue over the chocolate before latching onto the candy with his teeth. 

“One,” you say, your voice the tiniest bit muffled. From this close, the scent of smoke and ironically off-brand cologne was near intoxicating. Like you were huffing paint like a loser junky. “Two.” You’ve never been closer enough to him to see the light spackling of freckles over his sallow cheeks. Must be because his skin is so fair. There’s a small mole in the corner of his top lip. Sexy as fuck. “Three.” 

He’s the first to make a move, taking a small bite. You take a bigger one. You close your eyes and inhale his scent, just in case he pulls away. After his next move, your lips are only an inch away from each other. You can smell his breath and feel it on your face. But you pace yourself with a soft nibble that barely moves you forward. He does the same. 

Tiny bite by tiny bite you move closer. 

Until finally, the tiniest brush of skin on skin sets off an alarm in your head screaming “ _Dive, dive, dive!_ ” and you swoop in, catching him in a kiss that takes both of your breath away. His lips are soft, if only too stiff, but you know you can fix that. Determinedly, you move your mouth over his, telepathically urging him to dig this as much as you are. 

The Pocky is long gone now, but you’re still touching. Feeling. Lips caressing. On their own, your hands move to his mop of silky hair, entangling in the perfect pale locks. That makes him loosen up a bit His mouth goes slack for a second before he starts enjoying himself, moving his lips with yours and fighting for dominance even though you completely own this. 

When his tongue ventures into your mouth it sends an electric jolt through every vein in your body and you let out a muffled groan, pulling him closer. You’re almost in his lap now. There is no. way. In. hell that you’ll be the first one to pull away. Goddamnit this is complete bliss. Better than controlling the wind. Better than flying. As if reading your mind, he tilts forward, swiping his smooth tongue across the roof of your mouth and you let out another strangled noise, wrapping your arms around his shoulders like a vice. 

Now his strong fingers are pressing into your sides and it’s the best feeling you’ve ever had. He massages your skin a little roughly and you like it, gasping into his mouth. Both of your glasses are askew and poking into your faces, but you couldn’t find enough brain matter to care. Not while Dave was kissing you. 

This was far from your first kiss. There had been girls in high school, when the whole “nerds are cool” thing was going on. And there had even been a guy or two from nights spent at gay bars with a fake ID. But this kiss was the only one that seems to have any significance. They say you’re supposed to see fireworks. Well, this was the fucking Chinese New Year. 

Your fingers start moving again, tracing over his lean back. You massage his sides, like he’s doing yours and his shirt rises up a little. Another shock goes through your body when your hands meet bare skin and sets off another groan. You work your hands up again, touching his chest and stomach. When he starts gasping, you wonder if he’s realized that this isn’t a game anymore. 

You decide that it’s now or never. You take it a step further. 

You take a deep breath before letting your hands slip inside the front of his jeans and he yelps, biting your lip a little too hard before jumping up, knocking your teeth together with a tear jerking bump. 

“I win,” you pant, ready for anything, your hands are stuck in his belt loop and you have every intention of pulling him back down to your level… Or undoing his pants and letting him just stand up because who gives a shit, but he pushes you away. Brutally. 

“What the fuck Egbert.” He doesn’t even take the time to straighten his shades over his red-rimmed red eyes before storming off and slamming the door behind him. You don’t need to hear the lock click into place to know that you’ve fucked up royally. 

 

In the morning, when light first filters through the tears in your thick, worn down, green curtains to poke you hard in the eyes, you remember everything. It floods into your mind like someone broke the Hoover dam. 

There’s a small ball of hope in the pit of your stomach that wants Dave to be up and shirtless making you something unhealthy for breakfast. But you can’t smell anything, crushing that ball of hope into dust. 

As you slowly come back to awareness, you notice that the walls are vibrating. A beat is forming to a low, whining melody. Dave must be working on music. But this wasn’t the usual upbeat stuff he usually did. It was down and dirty and groaning like trees bending in a heavy wind. Electronic strings swirled through his muffled bass and he kept adding more, skillfully placing the music in just the right spot. The mixing board in his room wasn’t complex enough to make all the lamenting sounds you hear. He was in Bro’s room. 

This is bad. This is really bad. You’ve so fucked up everything that it wasn’t even _close_ to being funny. You grind the heels of your hands hard into your eyes, pressing them in as hard as possible. Shit. Fuck. God. Damn. It. All kinds of cusswords in all kinds of languages were storming through your mind. The high-tech watch strapped around your thin wrist beeps twice to signify that an hour had passed. You look at the tiny screen, squinting to make out the tiny numbers through your bad vision and the poor lighting. Seven o’clock on a Friday morning and you don’t have to go to class until three. You usually waste time with Dave by watching bad movies on Friday. 

Looks like you’re stuck watching them by yourself this time. What a fucking drag. 

After lying in bed for a few more minutes, listening to your best friend adds more to his already perfect music you decide that you have to get up. Every bass drop or rhythm change or addition of something else is like a weight being pressed onto your chest. If you don’t get up now, you might drown in the sorrowful tune. 

With a grunt, you’re out of bed, untangling the sheets from your oversized pajama bottoms. You could fit your entire body inside these things (you’ve tried before, curling up in their warmth) and had to tie them up tight so they wouldn’t just fall straight off your ass. But they were comfy and they were Dad’s. you’d found them in the bottom of his closet when you’d moved out and had slept in them or just your boxers every night from then on. 

The flannel material pools around your feet as you pad across the chilly floor. Without your glasses you have to squint to make out the piles of programming books and old DVD’s that litter your floor. You knock over a stack or two, cussing at your own two feet as you pad across the chilly floor. 

When you reach the short hall, the music is louder. Dave’s door is open and you peek inside just to confirm his absence. The bed in the corner was blissfully unmade, blankets and pillows spilling onto the cluttered floor. Empty apple juice bottles littered his desk top and the screensaver to his computer flashed through an old maze program from the nineties, just for the ironies. His walls were clear of posters and the only decoration was swords criss-crossing along the walls. Clothes were strewn everywhere and every drawer of his dresser was open. What a slob, you think, shaking your head at him before continuing down the hall.

For a second, you contemplate trying to open the closed door that was Bro’s room. You’d only been inside once, when Dave wasn’t home and it just gave you a weird feeling. Dave only went in there when he needed to remember. Or when he was almost irrevocably upset. The door was going to be locked.. If you tried to turn it and it didn’t give, there was no telling how hard your heart will break. 

So you ignore the door, passing it up to continue on to your every day bathroom routine of washing your face and brushing your oversized teeth. The mirror displays that you look as sad and worn down as you feel. Ten bucks says that if you lifted your shirt, there’d be a gaping black hole where your heart should be. 

At some point when the water was running, the cheerless music stopped and the silence it left in its wake was even louder. Does the quiet mean go away? Or does it mean come in? Come in because I want to talk. Come in because I can’t lose you over something this stupid. Please let that be what it means. 

The best friend thing to do would be to try to open the door. You sidestep over and raise a hand, hovering it in the thick air. If it’s locked that means it’s all over. Nothing left here. You’d messed everything up irreparably. 

Fuck it, you decide. Now or never. Just like last night. Maybe this time, instead of fucking life up, you’d make it better. You close your fist around the cold door knob-

It turns and your heart leaps back, thumping rapidly as the circle of metal turns in your hand and allows you access to Bro’s room. There was some hope.

Boldly, you tug open the door and step inside onto a floor of light blue shag carpeting. Musical equipment is stacked around the perimeter. What portion of the walls that aren’t covered in mixing boards and Record tables are obscured by smuppets hanging from the ceiling. A computer sits at a large desk, taking up much less space than the plush dolls scattered across its surface. The bed is completely unmade, just like Dave’s, with pillows and blankets trickling onto the floor. 

Dave was sitting in the middle of the room. Different sound boards are placed around him in a circle along with a keyboard and one of his laptops that he used for his gigs. He’s hunched over, clutching a red, velvet smuppet to his chest. His long fingers trace over and over the tip of the dolls worn out nose. The pale skin, where it’s visible, is flushed bright pink. 

Upset. He is _so_ upset. Almost broken. 

Normally, if you saw him like this you’d drop to the ground immediately and give him the best hug you could muster, letting him cry it out in silence on your shoulder. But now you aren’t sure where or not he really wants you to touch him. 

“I fucked up everything, didn’t I Strider?” you murmur. He doesn’t move an inch, except for his fingertips tracing across the smuppet’s nose. You take this as your cue to try to explain yourself. “Look, I don’t know what I was thinking… I guess I just… All my feelings just built up over time and I exploded. It won’t happen again. Now that I know I don’t have a chance in hell, I swear it won’t happen again. Just… I have to say that I love you. Not just as my best friend. Something more than that. Like I’m _in_ love with you, dude.” 

“Why?” he asks, now rubbing his sharp chin over the puppets pelt. He’s bent all the way over now and you’re doing you best to ignore the smooth strip of flesh between his pajama bottoms and the hem of his shirt. 

“What?” 

“Why do you love me, John?” he repeats himself a little bit louder. 

“Who couldn’t love you, Dave? Christ on a fucking cracker, you’re so _beautiful_. Inside and out. Except, I’m the only one that gets to see the inside. What do you think those little rave chicks think when you bring them here? They have to love you just a _teeny_ little bit to let you fuck them. But you let _me_ in your head. That made me fall for you. Like, make sweet passionate love to you until I forget my own name, fall for you.” Okay, that may have been a little bit too far. But you can’t take it back now. 

“Bro was into guys, y’know,” he says. You pad across the floor a little bit so you can hear him properly. “He used to bring little twinky guys home all the time and make me stay in my room. But I could always hear them. I’ve always been curious.” 

“You can’t hate everything that reminds you of him,” you say, dropping to your knees beside him. It takes everything not to reach a hand over and push back his pale hair. “You can’t be afraid of your feelings all the time. Just because he was that way doesn’t mean you have to be. I don’t know how many times I’ve told you this.” 

“Why aren’t you hugging me?” he asks. “You always hug me when you lecture me about emotions and shit. 

“I didn’t know I could.” You feel a sad smile slide across your lips as you nudge some of Bro’s equipment to the side to scoot closer. He moves too, laying across your lap and wrapping his sinewy arms around your middle. 

“All you need to do is ask, dude.” His arm breath washes over the thin material of your sleep shirt. You fingers find their way into his hair and you can feel him smiling. “Seriously, John. What the actual fuck came over you? That was way too much. Don’t you know you gotta be gradual with shit like this? I didn’t even know you were…” he stops midsentence. 

“Didn’t you ever wonder why _I_ never brought any girls home?” you inquire. 

“I always thought it was because you were a huge, honking nerdasaurus.” He jokes. 

“Gee, thanks.” You roll your eyes. He’d resorted to his cool insults, but at least he was talking. 

“Sorry about flipping my shit.” He sighs. “It was just… weird. Unexpected.” 

“So if I let you know in advance that I might want to have a hot make-out session with you, you’ll be down with it?” you toke. 

“Well yeah.” He replies and your heart explodes into a million tiny pieces. A nervous laugh bubbles up through your throat and you can’t stop it for anything. You’re just that euphoric. 

“I fucking love you so much.” You giggle. He looks up at you with one of his slight smirks. “Like, I don’t even care if you don’t love me back. Just… be in my life. I’m so totally down with being platonic soul bros forever, you don’t even know.” 

“Shut the hell up, Egbert.” He sits up. Before you can process it, his mouth is pressing against yours and you’re shot up to cloud nine billion. As an instinct, your arms clamp around his strong shoulders and you part your lips, drinking him in like a tall glass of cool-juice. Tongues slide and dance and skin meets skin and your head is swimming blissfully. His hands venture under your old shirt and trace along the line of your spine, jetting you even further into space. Desperate moans burst from your chest and you cling even tighter. 

“Jesus, Eggs.” He murmurs. You peck his lips as they move to form words. “This is really hot.” 

“Tell me about it,” you slur. 

“I kind of dig you back. If you hadn’t pieced that together yet,” he continues speaking so you give up on kissing his mouth and move your lips along the line of his jaw. “I guess I was just too scared to ruin our friendship. You’re all I’ve got, dude. I’m not trying to lose you.” 

“Never will.” You say around a mouthful of the soft skin of his neck. 

“Good.” He grins, hooking a finger under your chin to get your attention. “I’m being dead serious. You know that, don’t you?” 

“You’ll never be able to get rid of me for the rest of eternity. You know that, don’t you?” you retort. 

“Wouldn’t have it any other way.” He smiles even harder before pressing his lips to yours again. The two of you fit together like perfect clockwork. 

 

Next thing you know, the two of you are sitting, crossed-leg and facing each other in the middle of your bed. Your hands are blissfully intertwined between you, the warmth of his hand blissfully biting into the coldness of yours. He’d suggested that you move from Bro’s room before moving on to… other things and now here the two of you were, awkwardly avoiding the supplies he’d collected from his room. 

“Look, Egbert, we don’t have to-“

“Will you go slow?” you cut him off, staring at your hands. You still hadn’t put your glasses on, but you could see his white skin against your tan skin perfectly. 

“If that’s the way you want it.” Dave smirked. You break one hand away from his heat and reach up to deftly pluck the sunglasses off of their perch. There was a red indention on the crook of his nose from where they had been sitting, but now you could see his wonderful, blood red eyes. He didn’t protest as you folded the glasses carefully and leaned over to put them on your bedside table. 

“I like to see your whole face,” you murmur as a sad explanation. He exhales a small laugh and leans forward, curling a finger under your chin for leverage as he kisses you, taking your breath away from the millionth time in the last hour. You lean into him, placing your hands on his legs shyly. He pushes forward and you let yourself fall back, your head hitting the softness of your pillows gently. Dave’s tongue gently asks for entrance and you open your lips a bit to allow it in, tasting in wonderment. 

Hands wander down the front of your shirt, and then back up again, this time underneath, palms pressed against your bare skin. The pathetic moans come again and you worm your fingers into his thick hair, furrowing your brow to concentrate on kissing him back. It’s so much easier now that neither of you are wearing glasses. 

You whimper when he pulls away, opening your eyes to find his flushed face hovering only inches away from yours. “Arms up,” he says with a knowing smirk. 

“What?” you ask, thoroughly confused. He rolls his eyes and gives a short, tired laugh. He tugs on your shirt, which had been pushed up past your chest now. Click. Now you remember. “Oh.” You hesitantly raise your arms over your head and he gently tugs your shirt up and off, leaving you half naked underneath him. 

“Pretty sexy.” He smirks, straddling your waist and rubbing his hands along your torso, stopping at every peak and pressing right where he knew it would get you the hottest. Like you’d done this a million times before. Before you know it, you’re squirming, biting onto your knuckle to keep from crying out like a wimp. Soon, he follows his trailing fingers with trailing lips, biting and sucking and licking in all the ways you’d never dreamed would feel so goddamn good. 

Lower and lower, he places feather-light kisses down your chest and stomach, swirling his tongue devilishly around your navel. Okay. That’s it. You let out a desperate groan, digging the back of your head into your pillow. He hadn’t even started the good stuff yet, and you’re already in heaven. 

“You’re evil,” you groan. He hooks his fingers around the waistband of you pajama pants, tugging them down just the tiniest bit. He smirks, running his nose along your hip, his breath tickling your skin. “Just… Pure evil.” 

“Hey, if you want me to stop-“he lifts his head

“No!” you shout, raising up to look at him. He laughs. God, you love it when he smiles like that. 

“Just fucking with you, Egbert,” he says before diving back down as you watch. He yanks your pajama bottoms down and you lift your hips, allowing them to slide down, leaving you bare and standing before him, too aroused to care that just his kisses had gotten you rock hard already. “Someone’s happy to see me,” he mocks, running the side of his index finger along the underside of your length. 

“Fuck off,” you say pathetically, biting your lip as his hand circles around you, pumping slowly up and down to build delicious friction. You watch as he lifts an eyebrow at you before craning his neck and swallowing you down. 

Best. Feeling. Ever. This is perfect. Perfect warm, wet, soft pleasure. His throat muscles tense and relax rhythmically as he takes more and more of you into his wonderful mouth. Something tells you that he’d had practice with this sort of thing before, but you’d never open your mouth and say something about it now. If you opened your mouth now you’d probably start yelling like the virgin you were. So instead you bite your lip tight and bury your fingers in his hair. Your arm moves as he bobs his head up and down, letting you slip from his lips and sliding the tip of his tongue around your tip before swallowing you back down again. 

Pressure was building up in your abdomen now, burning and churning and threatening to spill over. “D-Dave,” you pathetically push him back, but your legs that are now cinched around his shoulders, keep him in place. “Strider, I’m gonna… Fuck… Just-“ you give up on speaking, but he gets the idea, pulling his head back to finish you off with his hand, pumping rapidly until you explode into white-hot amazing. 

When you open your eyes, everything is a little more blurry than it had been before, but you make out Dave wiping at his cheek with the back of his hand. You exhale, collapsing tiredly back onto your pillow. The fabric of your sheets sticks to your sweaty skin. 

“Enjoy that?” he asks, plopping down on the bed next to you. He was still fully clothed and your pants were bunched around your ankles, but you didn’t have enough strength left to make yourself decent. 

“I love you,” you slur your words drunkenly, waving a hand through the air for no apparent reason. 

“That was only the beginning, Egbert,” he says, rolling over so that you’re face to face again. His red meeting your blue to mix into the perfect shade of purple. You’d never realized how much emotion he had swimming in those molten lava eyes. Probably because he never let you look at them for very long. 

“I love your eyes.” You lift your hand to trace a line underneath his eyelid. “And your cheeks.” Your finger draws a circle around his cheekbones. “Your lips.” You touch his mouth. He smiles. “Your fucking perfect smile, goddamnit!” you grin back at him and he laughs. 

“You’re such a loser, Egbert,” he grabs your hand and kisses your palm. 

“You love it.” 

“You know it…” he nuzzles his face against your hand for a long moment before facing you again. “Ready for more?” 

“Hell yes,” you say, your heart speeding up at just the thought of the next step up from what he’s done to you already. Fuck going to class. You were going to spend the entire day in bed. In bed with your best friend. In bed with the love of your life.

And you hope the day will last forever.


End file.
